Halloween Hassles
by CrystallicSky
Summary: It's rough being Dethklok's manager on Halloween... N/C


**Halloween Hassles**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Metalocalypse or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Alcohol usage, language, sexual implications, homosexuality, fluff.**

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It was rough to be Dethklok's manager; all of the time, certainly, but most of all on Halloween night.

On Halloween, the boys adhered to a very predictable tradition: a concert consisting of what they deemed their best songs at the time followed by a massive bash with guests of the band's choosing and all the sugary sweets an army of Tokis could ever want.

Dethklok loved the event, of course, and looked forward to it throughout the entire month of October. They got a chance to do what they loved and assert their status as the most metal band on the planet (because you couldn't really call yourself brutal if you didn't play a concert on the famed All Hallow's Eve) and afterwards, they were treated with the mother of all goofing off sessions. They could talk and drink and hang out with old friends or, by far the most popular option among the band members, have good old-fashioned fun with gaggles upon gaggles of sluts and easy women and all while getting drunk and high and sugar-high.

Unfortunately for Charles Offdensen, a lot went into the preparation of the night to make his job more difficult.

There were the usual tasks to be completed for a regular concert, such as special effects, ticket sales, pain waivers, equipment, replacement of roadies that died during the last concert, but namely the issue was finding a sufficiently metal place to serve as the venue. This year, the boys had been very specific in what they wanted and had said the venue absolutely _had_ to be the infamous Sedlec Ossuary. After all, how brutal would it be to perform in a chapel decorated with tens of thousands of human bones?

Still, it was difficult to acquire the ossuary for Dethklok's use; seems there were a lot of ethical issues in holding a concert amongst real skeletons and in a chapel, no less. Charles, however, was very, very, _very_ good at what he did and the Czech Republic was soon welcoming the boys to use the place for whatever they wanted.

Even _after_ all the preparation for the actual concert was done, however, the manager's job was not: he still had to make sure everything for the Halloween after-party bash would go off without a hitch.

That meant, of course, a whole new venue. The boys wanted the entire abandoned city of Prypiat in Ukraine, which just so happened to _be_ abandoned because of an event by the name of Chernobyl. Radiation levels had dropped enough for it to be safe to enter since the event, and yet nobody had chosen to repopulate it, making the place a totally empty, totally eerie ghost town. Obtaining the venue in this case had been easy: it was the issue of security that had been _massively_ difficult.

It was not so simple to see an entire city policed as thoroughly as one could police a single building, and plenty of hiring had had to be done to make sure that the perimeter was adequately watched for unwanted guests, not to mention how difficult it was to place hundreds of gears within the city itself so that no matter where the boys and their mostly female guests wandered, they would be entertained.

The work put into it had been hard, certainly, but it was worth it in the end. The concert went off without a hitch and briefly checking a few online reviews after the fact was enough to assure that Dethklok had just given one of the best performances of their career as far as critics were concerned. The boys had swiftly been loaded onto the Dethbus and carted off from the ossuary (which had been severely damaged by the concert; the chandelier, made from every bone in the human body, fell and killed several hundreds of people all at once) so that the trip to Ukraine could be gotten underway.

It was about a ten hour drive for the massive tour bus (closer to _fourteen_ hours in a normal car), and the majority of the band had taken the opportunity to get in a little bit a sleep before what would surely end up being an all night party.

Not Charles.

The manager had immediately retreated to his room on the Dethbus, _needing_ to unwind. His calm, collected façade held up only until he closed the door behind him, at which point his stiff posture slouched and he sighed deeply in relief. Everything about him was uncomfortable, it seemed, and the man refused to stand it.

He removed his glasses, his eyes feeling sore to the extent of seeping pain into his head. He tore off his suit-jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, loosening and throwing off his red silk tie; allowing it to land wherever it may. It didn't much matter if it wrinkled or got dirty, as he could _more_ than afford a dozen replacements with his exceedingly handsome salary. He treated his belt, shoes, and socks to the same treatment but left on his pants and white dress shirt.

Charles was far from modest, but he felt no need to strip naked at the moment and he was comfortable enough now, besides.

The lawyer made his way over to his liquor cabinet and removed a bottle of wine. Instead of pouring a glass for himself, however, he simply took the whole thing with him to the couch onto which he flopped gracelessly. Charles fumbled between the cushions for a moment or two before finding the remote and flicking on the television to a showing of Dawn of the Dead.

_This_ was the way to spend Halloween, the manager decided: sprawled inelegantly upon the couch, drinking wine directly out of the bottle, and watching a good old-fashioned scary movie.

Such was how frontman Nathan Explosion found the manager when he came in search of him.

The door had been unlocked and so Nathan had come straight in only to pause in confusion at the sight of the man he found.

It was understandable: he had hardly _ever_ seen Charles without his glasses much less without his practically trademark suit and tie.

The image was so incongruent with what he knew of Offdensen that the frontman actually had to ask, "Charles?"

Charles glanced over, only half-surprised to see Nathan there. The younger man _had_ said he'd be coming by, hadn't he? "H'llo, Nathan," he greeted.

"…are you, like…drunk?" The slur in the lawyer's words had given it away in conjunction with the wine bottle he held in his hand.

"Gettin' there," Charles freely admitted. He raised the wine towards his client, inquiring, "Want some?"

Nathan accepted it immediately (naturally) and took a swig as he joined his manager on the couch. Passing the bottle back and watching as the small brunette did the same, the frontman teased, "Classy."

"Pssh, shut up." Hazel eyes leveled what would be a truly terrifying glare had the man not been intoxicated. "T'be crude, I 'busted my ass' settin' this up for you boys; I think m'entitled to a drink."

The frontman offered a wolfish grin in response. "Y'know, they sell wine glasses big enough to hold, like, a whole bottle of wine. You could use one of those and, y'know, look classy _and_ still get drunk."

Charles half-sat up only to flop over onto the other side of the couch, ending up slumped in Nathan's lap. "Get me that," he demanded. "Birthday present; Christmas; something. Jus' do it."

The action surprised the lead singer were he to be honest. The manager was hardly _ever_ touchy-feely like this outside of sex, the quiet and reserved businessman he was. Then again, it'd been proven on that outing the night after Melmord's departure that Charles was a _very_ affectionate drunk.

Nonetheless, Nathan ran his fingers through short, brown hair, agreeing, "Yeah, sure." His green eyes briefly flickered over to the television. "Dawn of the Dead?" he questioned.

"S'a classic," Charles offered from his lap.

"Can't argue with that."

The pair watched zombies killing and being killed for a few moments before Nathan gradually took his eyes off of the screen.

Charles looked so…_small_ lying there in his lap, and not simply because he was a head shorter than any given member of Dethklok. He looked exhausted and vulnerable and…well, spent.

It wasn't fair, really: the manager had to deal with all sorts of stress and obligations 24/7 just because there was absolutely _no one else_ in the world as smart and as capable and as multitalented as he was that could do his job. He couldn't even take Halloween, Nathan's personal favorite holiday, off because he was busy making sure Dethklok enjoyed themselves.

Feeling guilty but wanting to actually _do_ something about it, the frontman spoke up. "Charles," he nudged the older man, "you should…um…come with us. Y'know, to Priap…Pyrap…P-"

"Prypiat?" Charles provided.

Nathan snorted despite himself. "See? You're hammered and you can _still_ say it better than me."

The manager glanced upwards with a cheeky grin. "M'a man of many talents, Nathan. Never forget that."

"Can do," the lead singer smiled before realizing that that was not an answer to his suggestion. "Still," he insisted, "you should come."

"Mmm…I dunno, Nathan," Charles muttered. "I doubt it'd be much fun."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the frontman demanded. "It's an abandoned fucking city. We can do whatever the hell we want; how is that not awesome?"

"I mean it wouldn't be fun for me to be there," the manager explained. "'M not exactly the 'hanging out' type, and 'm sure the rest of the band would have reservations about my coming along."

"Fuck them," Nathan firmly decided. "_I_ want you to come, and I have more say than all of them, so there."

Charles thought on it for a moment. "Let's compromise," he decided. "You an' the boys can do whatever you want, an' then…when they've all had their fun, you can call me and I'll come ride the Ferris wheel with you."

The lead singer nodded. "Yeah…that sounds good. You're, like…really good at compromises."

"How on Earth d'you figure I got the ossuary for you?" Charles teased.

"Yeah, alright," Nathan grinned, "I'll give you that." He pressed the older man back down against his lap and turned the volume of the TV down just a bit. "Sleep," he gruffly ordered. "You look tired."

The manager easily obliged and as he closed his eyes, he decided he'd changed his mind.

Sprawled inelegantly upon the couch, drinking wine directly out of the bottle, and watching a good old-fashioned scary movie _wasn't_ the best way to spend Halloween.

The _best_ way to spend Halloween was pleasantly drunk on the couch with a scary movie on in the background as you fell asleep in an affectionate rock star's lap.

**--**

**A/N: Had to write _something_ for Halloween, didn't I? In all fairness, this WAS posted on my other posting-site in time for the holiday. Over here...? Not so much, considering it's now the last day of November. XD**

**Anyways, this is just something I managed to put together in a couple of hours, so hopefully, it came out okay. ^^**

**In any case, thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! :D**


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